Latest / Great Zimbabwe: The Lost African Kingdom of Stone — Fexingo History / The Lost Legacy of Great Zimbabwe's Stone Birds
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about the walls, the gold, the cattle — but today I want to zero in on something that's been sitting in the shadows of all those stories: the soapstone birds themselves. Not just as symbols, but as objects with a life of their own before, during, and after Great Zimbabwe. Luna: Haven't we already covered the birds in a couple of episodes though? Lucas: We have, but there's a whole layer we haven't touched — what happened to the birds after the city fell. The looting, the colonial collecting, the dispersal across the world. And then there's this incredible 2023 radiocarbon dating project that's shaken up the timeline of when they were carved. Luna: Okay, that sounds like a fresh angle. So what did the dating actually reveal? Lucas: So for over a century, the working assumption was that the birds were carved in the city's peak period, around the 13th to 15th centuries. But the 2023 study, led by a team from the University of Zimbabwe and Oxford, tested a few fragments that had been carefully curated in the national museum's vault — and they came back with dates in the 10th century. That's a couple hundred years earlier than anyone expected. Luna: Wait, the 10th century? That would mean the birds predate the big stone walls by centuries. Lucas: Exactly. And it changes how we understand the site's development. It suggests that the ritual importance of the Hill Complex — where most of the birds were found — was established much earlier, maybe even before the first stone was laid. So the birds weren't just a later addition to a thriving city; they might have been the very reason the city grew around them. Luna: That's a big deal. So the birds were kind of the original sacred core. Lucas: Exactly. But before we go deeper into what they meant, I want to talk about where they ended up. Because the story of how these birds left Zimbabwe is almost as dramatic as the city's fall. Lucas: When European explorers and colonial officials started arriving in the late 19th century, they were mesmerized by the birds. Karl Mauch, the German explorer, even tried to take one back to Germany in 1872 — he was stopped at the coast, but that didn't stop a wave of collecting. Luna: So they were just taken? Lucas: Pretty much. Cecil Rhodes's British South Africa Company, which controlled the area, actually issued permits for archaeological digging, and many of those digs were just thinly disguised looting operations. By the early 1900s, at least eight of the eleven known birds had been taken out of the country — to places like the British Museum in London, the Musée du quai Branly in Paris, and private collections in South Africa and the US. Lucas: And even the ones that stayed in Zimbabwe had a rough path. Some were damaged during a 1990s renovation of the national museum when a worker accidentally knocked one off its pedestal — it broke into several pieces. They've since been restored, but it shows how fragile these objects really are. Luna: Ouch. So what's being done now about bringing them back? Lucas: There's a growing repatriation movement. In 2021, the National Museum of Zimbabwe made a formal request to the British Museum for the return of its two birds. And in 2023, the French government actually returned one of the birds from the quai Branly — it's now on display in a purpose-built gallery in the Museum of Human Sciences in Harare. Luna: That's progress, but I imagine it's not a simple process. Lucas: No, it's not. There are legal hurdles, ethical debates about colonial-era acquisitions, and practical concerns about conservation and security. But the momentum is there. And it ties into a broader conversation about who owns cultural heritage, especially when it was taken under coercion. Lucas: You know, talking about all this — the birds being scattered, the repatriation efforts — it makes me think about how much of history is about loss and return. And it also reminds me that this show, like so many history projects, is a labor of love. It takes time and resources to keep digging into these stories. Luna: Yeah, it really does. Lucas: If today's episode felt like it was worth a coffee to you, you can support the show at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. That's a huge help in keeping things ad-free and making sure we can keep exploring topics like this. No pressure, just a small way to keep the conversation going. Luna: And we genuinely appreciate every bit of support, however small. Lucas: So, back to the birds. Beyond their physical journey, there's the question of what they actually represented. We know from oral traditions and ethnographic records that the birds were linked to the mhondoro — the ancestral spirits who acted as intermediaries with Mwari, the supreme creator god. Each bird might have represented a specific royal lineage or a totem, like the bateleur eagle, which is a powerful symbol in Shona culture. Luna: The bateleur — that's the bird with the striking black and white feathers, right? Lucas: Exactly. The bateleur is known for its grace in flight and its ability to soar high — the Shona associated it with divine vision and royal authority. So the carvings weren't just art; they were conduits for spiritual power, probably kept in ritual spaces where the svikiro, the spirit mediums, would communicate with the ancestors. Lucas: But here's where it gets interesting. The 2023 dating study also found that some of the birds were carved from different soapstone sources, which suggests they weren't all made at the same time or by the same workshop. That means the tradition of carving them was maybe more dynamic and evolving than we thought. Luna: So the birds could have come from different places or been made by different communities over time. Lucas: Exactly. And that might explain why they don't all look identical — some have a more naturalistic style, others are more stylized. There's one with a crocodile carved into its base, another with a human figure. So they weren't mass-produced; each one was likely a unique commission for a specific royal house or lineage. Lucas: And that brings up another point: the birds weren't just confined to Great Zimbabwe. Similar soapstone carvings have been found at other sites like Khami and Danamombe, which were later capitals of the Torwa and Rozvi states. So the tradition outlived the city itself. Luna: So they were part of a wider cultural practice across the region. Lucas: Yes. And that continuity challenges the old colonial narrative that Great Zimbabwe was a mysterious ruin built by outsiders — it was clearly the product of an indigenous civilization with deep roots and a lasting legacy. Lucas: So, the birds continue to captivate us — not just as ancient relics, but as living symbols. When Zimbabwe gained independence in 1980, the Zimbabwe bird was adopted as the national emblem, appearing on the flag. And today, it's a powerful reminder of a proud heritage that was once dismissed as 'lost' or 'mysterious'. Luna: It's amazing how a carving from the 10th century can still hold so much meaning today. Lucas: And that's the beauty of history — it's not just about the past, but about how we connect to it now. The birds are a bridge between worlds, and I think that's why they still speak to us.